


Trouble

by Cinnamongirl



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamongirl/pseuds/Cinnamongirl
Summary: The Inquisitor has a confession to make.





	Trouble

Something had obviously gone very wrong at the Storm Coast, and Krem didn’t have any fancy spy training but he’d been working with Bull long enough to tell when he was upset. The worst part was that Krem knew that the Chief knew that he knew, but they both also knew that the rest of the Chargers _didn’t_ know, so nobody was talking about it.

It wasn’t until the day after they’d returned to Skyhold that Krem learned what had happened. He was in the tavern, trying to decide how much money he wanted to spend on wine, when something soft hit him in the head. He looked down in time to see a knot of yarn tumble to the ground.

“Oi!” Sera was leaning over the balcony, waving at him. “Yeah, you! Come on, got something to show you.” 

Krem was sure that he was walking into some sort of prank but he followed her upstairs and into her room, which looked like something pink had exploded all over it.

She shut the door behind them and scowled. “Look, it’s weird the way you stand on chairs and all, but you’re a good one. You need to know,” and without any further warning, she told him everything about how Bull had been forced to choose between saving the Chargers and saving the dreadnought and he'd just stood there paralyzed until Lavellan yelled at him to sound the retreat. Not only had he come close to sacrificing the team that had been unfailingly loyal to him, Bull hadn’t even been able to decide on his own whether or not they were worth sacrificing.

He believed that Sera was telling him the truth. He wouldn’t trust her to hold onto anything that he wanted to see again but he’d never known her to lie when it wasn’t part of a prank or one of her Red Jenny schemes. She wasn’t following up the information with advice for him or any kind of request, so either she was being subtle for the first time in or life or she genuinely just thought he deserved to know.

Shit, he’d spent so much time with Bull that he couldn’t even stop thinking like him.

Krem went back downstairs and bought a decent Antivan red from the cabinet in the back room that Cabot would only open for people who were on Ambassador Montilyet’s good side. He tried to ignore Bull watching him as he _sat down_ in his chair. “How’s it going, Krem?” 

He didn’t even turn his name into a bad pun. It must be serious. “All right, Chief. You?”

“Can’t complain.”

They were going to have to talk about it eventually, but not in public like this and not when Bull was still so raw about becoming Tal-Vashoth. Krem reminded himself that Bull had sacrificed his eye the first time he saved Krem’s life, and this time around he’d sacrificed his entire identity. That still meant something.

He couldn’t ignore the fact that the Inquisitor had been the one to make the final decision, and that he’d chosen them over the Qun. Bull always said that Lavellan went out of his way to save people whenever possible but he’d been so excited about forming the alliance. That’s how he always was: caring to a fault, charming and awkward in equal measure, not to mention so good-looking that Krem would have approached him a long time ago if he’d been anyone other than the person who was paying them.

There was definitely _something_ between them. Probably. Lavellan seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time talking with Krem whenever he was at Skyhold and their conversations always ended up in borderline-flirting territory but for all Krem knew, he was like that with everybody.

As if he’d been summoned by thinking about him, Lavellan entered the tavern and went straight for Krem. He looked nervous.

“Your worship?”

“Aclassi.” He stared at him awkwardly. Krem took a drink from his wine.

“Ah, do you mind sharing some of that?” He gestured toward the bottle.

That was certainly a new development. Krem stared at his face, trying to figure out what he was going for. He still looked nervous. “Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t want everybody thinking they’re entitled to my wine just for the asking.” Maybe Lavellan would open up more if they were alone.

“I _am_ the Herald of Andraste, you know. I’m probably entitled to a lot of things.” He grinned. See, he was doing it again, the thing where he made ambiguous statements that could be suggestive, or it could just be him being a smartarse.

“You don’t even believe in Andraste.” 

“Shh, don’t tell everyone!” 

Bull watched them leave but he didn’t say anything. They ended up in an empty area of the battlements. It was early evening and the sun was in the middle of setting, where it looked pretty but it made your eyes hurt.

Krem handed the bottle over and watched as Lavellan sipped it tenatively, made an impressed noise, and and then shamelessly took a very long drink. “Is this what you’re always drinking? You have expensive taste for a mercenary.”

“I know what I like,” he said, just a little bit flirty, because that was easier than explaining that it had been a very long week and he was still Tevinter enough to appreciate the good shit.

He was almost positive that Lavellan was blushing behind his tattoos as he handed the bottle back. He took a drink and thought about how Lavellan’s mouth had been there a moment ago.

“So, about the Storm Coast-”

Krem nodded. “Sera told me what happened.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m sure that Bull would’ve made the same choice if he’d had more time to think; he was just put in a difficult position and he wasn’t prepared for it.”

“Maybe.” It was painful to realize that he didn’t know for sure.

“Look, I know it’s hard not to hold it against him, but-”

“No, it’s fine. It will be fine. We’ve been through worse together.”

“That’s good.” He looked nervous again. “I didn’t come here to talk about Bull. There’s no good way to say this, but I probably just made the Inquisition an enemy of the Qun because I couldn’t stand the thought of you dying. It was stupid and selfish and it’ll probably come back to bite me someday but I don’t regret it.”

“…Thank you?” Lavellan winced and Krem felt like an asshole, but how the fuck was he supposed to respond to something like that? He’d been kind of hoping that they might someday progress from ambiguous flirtation to _Can I buy you dinner?_ but they’d apparently skipped all the way to dramatic confessions. “No, I mean it, thank you. I promise to return the favor if I ever have the opportunity.”

Lavellan cringed. “See, now it sounds like ‘Oh, I saved your life so now you owe me’ but that’s really not what I meant at all. It just… felt like something I should tell you.”

“I’m really glad that you’re not dead either, all right? And for what it’s worth, you’re welcome to ask me for anything you want. No obligations.”

“All right. Thanks.” He looked embarrassed, or maybe disappointed. “I guess I should head back inside. Lots of paperwork to do.”

“Fuck it, can I kiss you?” Krem blurted it out before he could second-guess himself. “It sounded like that was where you were going with the part about not wanting me to die, and-”

Lavellan threw himself at Krem so quickly that he barely had time to hold the wine bottle out of the way. He considered just dropping it in a fit of passion but someone would have to clean up the glass tomorrow and besides, this shit was expensive.

He prepared himself for messy, desperate kissing, probably involving teeth, but once Lavellan’s mouth pressed against his it turned into something else entirely. Lavellan took his time with him, grabbing onto Krem’s shoulders and kissing him with the same skill and confidence he had in battle, the effortless mastery that had inspired armies to follow his lead. It was all Krem could do to hold tight to Lavellan’s skinny waist and try to give back as good as he got.

Lavellan paused long enough to look down at the courtyard and winced when he saw that there were several people still there. Nobody seemed to be looking up, but they would be easy to see if anyone decided to do so.

“You want to take this somewhere less, ah, visible? My quarters have a lock on the door but they’re way on the other side of the castle and we’d have to go through the throne room.”

Krem thought about it for a moment. “Bull’s room is closer and he definitely owes me one.”

He smiled. “I like the way you think.”

He grabbed Lavellan’s hand—and the wine—and led him back inside.


End file.
